Gospel Story Finder

When I was little and learning to read, it was really hard. But with my mom’s and Heavenly Father’s help, I learned to read. My best friend, Renzo, was also having a hard time learning to read.
One day I told him that I would give him a secret to help him learn to read because it worked for me. We went into the schoolyard. I taught Renzo how to pray, and he said a prayer to Heavenly Father, asking for help.
At the end of the school year, both Renzo and I received a medal of honor in reading because of Heavenly Father’s help. I know Heavenly Father answers our prayers.

Sometimes we do our very best to understand a question. We study it out in our mind and try every way we can to come to our best decision. At that point, we will sometimes receive additional guidance—things we hadn’t thought of, protection from dangers we couldn’t anticipate, an open pathway we wouldn’t have thought of.
Normally the Holy Ghost doesn’t tell us things that we know we should do. I’ve never had the Holy Ghost tell me to go to bed on time. I knew I was supposed to do that. Usually, the Holy Ghost helps alert us to things after we’ve done everything we can.
When I was deciding about graduate school, I had been granted a scholarship at a wonderful school. Yet, after studying things as best I could and coming to what I thought was my best decision, I had a very clear feeling that I should apply to a different school.
So I did and ended up attending a different graduate school than I had initially planned. At that critical juncture, after I had done all I could, quiet guidance took me from one set of opportunities to another that opened many possibilities and blessings I would never have anticipated on my own.

As I have prepared for this talk today, I have felt directed to share a personal experience. Most of my colleagues and students don’t know this story because I tend to be a private person. But this experience was one in which I felt that I was poisoned by degrees, and I want to share how I found hope and purpose again.

My husband, Curtis, and I have wanted to be parents for a while, but it hadn’t worked out for us. Infertility has been a long and difficult challenge. We have an incredible life with a good marriage, awesome family, fulfilling careers, and the world’s best dog. However, we still want to be parents. After having been married for almost a decade, it was starting to seem as if it might never happen.

Then I got pregnant. It felt like such a miracle. We were so excited and so scared, but my first doctor’s appointment went well. Then at twelve weeks I had my first ultrasound because of some worrying symptoms. The tech was silent as she did the scans. I knew something was very wrong. I was whisked away into another room where the medical team explained that, in addition to a miscarriage, I had a rare complication that causes tumors to grow. I needed surgery right away to remove the tumors because I was at high risk of hemorrhaging.

I hardly slept that night. I stayed up all night reading about my diagnosis and wondering why this had to happen. Why did we have those months when we thought we were getting our miracle only to end up in a much worse circumstance? I had never heard of this condition and didn’t know anyone who had been through it. I felt so alone.

The surgery went well, but the doctor told me that my situation was still serious. As the weeks went on, tiny traces of the tumors could still be detected. The only solution was chemotherapy—literally poisoning my body by degrees in hopes of completely eradicating the tumors. So I would start my morning by checking into the hospital, getting an IV, and then receiving my toxic medication. Then I would come to work here at BYU. Every day I would get a little weaker and the side effects would get stronger.

But the worst part was that I started to get really discouraged. This was the real poison in my life. I was dealing with grief. I had opened space in my heart and life for a child, and I deeply felt that loss. I was looking for purpose in my life. I was overwhelmed and discouraged. I was praying, but I still felt lost.

Interestingly, before all this began, I was scheduled to go on a work trip to American Samoa with a BYU study abroad program called Rheumatic Relief, which provides health clinics for children in areas where there is a high risk for rheumatic heart disease. This program had been part of BYU for many years, and we were relaunching it after the pandemic had passed. As a communicator, my job was to capture the story of the trip by conducting interviews and taking photos and videos. I would also provide administrative support.

The problem was that the trip was scheduled to start right after what would now be my tenth chemo infusion. My oncologist told me I should cancel the trip. I, being the easygoing patient that I am, told him I thought he was wrong. I asked him to reconsider because I was really struggling with everything and I wanted and needed to do some good in the world. I needed to balance out the darkness by bringing light into my life. My oncologist said he would consult with his colleagues, and a few days later he gave permission.

By the time the trip came around, I was quite sick from the chemo. I didn’t have much energy as I began packing. My husband and dog did everything they could to help me, which is why none of my clothes matched during the trip and everything had a little bit of fur on it.

I got on the plane, and I prayed that I could be of some use. I prayed for hope and purpose. I tried to trust that this was where God wanted me, and I threw myself into the work.

Healing Light

I spent my days in American Samoa interacting with hundreds of children. I helped them through the clinic, asked them questions, and took their pictures and videos. I learned the stories of the BYU students, and I helped the medical team in whatever way I could. I worked as hard as I could, and then I crashed in my hotel room as soon as we were done with the clinic every day. And as I served during those long, hot, sweaty days, I felt something begin to change. Though the chemo still filled my veins, my heart started to heal.

Very quickly we started to find cases of rheumatic heart disease among the children we were testing. I knew this would happen—that is why we were there, after all—but it was so humbling to look into the faces of these children and realize that they had a serious hidden medical condition. Every diagnosis brought a moment of hope too. This meant that the incredible American Samoa health department could start treating the child and stop the heart disease from progressing. The children would need treatment for years or decades, but they would live long, healthy lives because they had this diagnosis and could receive expert care from their local medical team in the coming years.

Then we found a nine-year-old boy with an advanced case—his heart was already so damaged from the disease that he needed open heart surgery to repair two heart valves. I noticed Dr. David Cragun, a cardiologist and BYU alumnus, sitting with the boy long after the scan and answering all his questions. I later found out that the boy had asked questions about his diagnosis, surgery, and other items relevant to his situation. One question the little boy asked stood out to me. After hearing about the long challenge ahead of him, he looked up at Dr. Cragun and asked if he could at least still go to football practice after school that day. He was just a kid!

I felt God’s love for the people in American Samoa. I could feel how important it was that we were there sharing our time, talents, and resources. God needed us to help bless some of His children. As I felt that love, I started to also feel glimpses of God’s love for me.

I realized that even though it might have been the hardest week of my life physically, it had changed everything spiritually and mentally. I was no longer overwhelmed by frustrations and the fear of not feeling that I was enough.

Through serving, I finally received the perspective that I needed to begin healing and to stop feeling so lost. It was a real testament to the Savior’s promise in Matthew 16:25: “Whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall find it.”

Now I don’t want to act like everything suddenly became easy. It didn’t. I still had weeks of chemo waiting for me when I returned home. I still had a lot to face and to overcome. But as I stand here almost exactly one year after finishing chemo, I want to bear testimony that the Lord was there for me, strengthening me and helping me find the answers I needed.

As I did everything that I could to bring light into my life, the Savior multiplied that light.

For Laurentino Moreira, the gospel was a new-found treasure to give to those he loved. In sharing it, he began a chain of events that has led to more than one hundred conversions—and perhaps saved the life of his brother Joaquim.
Laurentino—Tino to his friends—was at home one day in Porto, the second-largest city of Portugal, when two young women knocked at his door. He told them politely that he already belonged to a church and had no interest in the religion they wanted to discuss with him. But when they asked if he would like to see a movie at their chapel, he agreed.
The movie, The First Vision was interesting enough that Tino agreed to listen to one of the missionary discussions, and one discussion led to another. By the second one, he was beginning to feel a spirit that he liked very much. He realized that what these young women were teaching could change his life.
“When the missionaries told me that through prayer I could ask God about the truth of things, this was not a new idea for me,” he explains. Three years earlier, he had read a series of books about ancient civilizations and had concluded that God must have had a part in their origins. For more than two years, Tino had recited prayers, the way he had been taught as a youth, entreating God to help him learn more about those civilizations. (He feels that those prayers were largely answered when he was taught about the Book of Mormon.)
One night after he began hearing the missionary discussions. Tino had one basic question about Church doctrine: Was Joseph Smith a prophet of God? So Tino asked Heavenly Father that question. Immediately, “I began to feel a peace and a great joy at the same time. I began to smile, and immediately, I was happy. I said to myself, ‘Well, this is the answer.’”
He couldn’t keep what he was learning about the gospel to himself. Previously, “I had believed that life didn’t end with death,” Tino remembers, but he had only his own theories about what came after mortality. Now that he had heard of the plan of salvation, he wanted everyone else to know, too. “I had some great friends. I felt the need to share this good news with them.”
One of those “great friends” was his brother Joaquim. When Tino invited Quim (pronounced “Keem”) to his baptism, Quim was surprised to learn that his brother had even been attending a church.
The brothers had developed different interests through the years, and Quim used drugs, lived a dissolute life, and claimed not to believe in God. He was on a downward spiral. “Maybe if I hadn’t learned about the Church, I wouldn’t be alive now,” Quim reflects. But because Tino wanted some of his family to attend his baptism, Quim agreed to go.
The chapel was a different world to Quim, with its wholesome atmosphere and well-groomed people. After the baptism, Quim was invited to hear a missionary discussion, so he stayed. He responded positively to all of it. “I was surprised at myself,” he says.
At the end of the discussion, Quim was asked to offer the prayer. “I had never offered a prayer in my life,” he says. But the missionaries taught him how to do it. “I never have offered a better prayer than I offered at that moment,” he recalls. At the end of it, “I stood up—and I felt like I was flying!” He asked the missionaries repeatedly: “What is this? I don’t understand. What is this I am feeling?” A great sense of peace, light, and joy had come over him. All evening, Quim kept talking about what he had felt.
By the next day, however, he had almost convinced himself that the experience hadn’t really been so important. “Listen, Tino,” he said, “I don’t want to go to your Church anymore.”
But during the following week, the desire to know why he had experienced such wonderful feelings after that prayer built up in him. Quim’s resolve to stay away from Tino’s church collapsed. It was late at night, Tino recalls, when Quim shook him awake to say, with some intensity, “I want to go to church tomorrow.”
“And from that moment, I wanted to be baptized,” Quim says. “As soon as I heard the other discussions, I believed.” It was a joyful discovery to learn “that our Father cares about each of his children.” He was baptized just three weeks after his brother was.
Tino served diligently in every Church calling extended to him following his baptism, but after a couple of years, he realized that there was more he could, and should, give—the time required for a full-time mission. He felt that, by serving a mission, he would be able to help other young people find answers to the same questions about life that had so perplexed him a few years earlier.
Like Tino, Quim served a mission in Portugal. When Harold Hillam, president of the Portugal Lisbon Mission, told Quim, “Brother Moreira, you’re going to be a missionary,” Quim replied: “How? I have no money, my parents aren’t members, and I’ll have to quit my studies.” But the mission president insisted that he must be prepared to go on a mission in a few months, and Quim continued to pray, asking the Lord how it could be done.
One night, in a dream, he saw himself dressed as a missionary, leaving home with his suitcases, and he awoke knowing that it would happen. Financial help was found through the Church, and Joaquim Moreira left school to accept the call. That is a very important decision in Portugal, for it is difficult to gain readmission to a university.
When they talked to their parents about going on missions, the two young men expected sterner opposition. Perhaps the elder Moreiras did not withhold their permission because they were grateful for the Church’s influence on their sons. Nevertheless, the parents—particularly Tino and Quim’s mother—resisted the idea of changing religions themselves.
But the influence of the gospel continued to work in the lives of Quim and Tino’s family. Shortly after Tino entered the mission field, their father was ready for baptism. Tino, who was working nearby, had the privilege of baptizing him. Their mother declined at first even to read her sons’ letters from the mission field. Quim sent one letter home, however, with a special prayer that she would read it and be touched. His prayer was answered, and it was not long until she was baptized by her husband.
Tino and Quim both found treasures of spiritual strength in the mission field. Quim recalls trying to teach one widow whose husband had spent much of his life as a missionary for another church. The woman had agreed to listen to the missionary discussions because her daughter was a Latter-day Saint. As one of the discussions progressed, however, she found it too difficult to accept the idea that the teachings of her church were not correct. “Elder Moreira,” she said, “I don’t want to hear any more of this doctrine. I am going to labor to finish the missionary work my husband started!”
Quickly, Quim offered a silent prayer, asking what to say. He was inspired to assure the woman that her husband had already accepted the gospel in the spirit world.
Later, the woman’s daughter told Quim that after saying her own personal prayers that evening, she lay meditating on how she could help her mother accept the gospel. Suddenly, “I saw my father in my room. He said, ‘That missionary spoke the truth, and I want your mother to be baptized.’”
Because of her daughter’s experience, the mother agreed to listen to the missionaries again. This time, there was a different spirit about her; she was baptized a week later.
For Tino, missionary service took an unexpected turn. Deferment of their mandatory military obligation is not allowed for Portuguese missionaries, and Tino was called into his country’s air force. He still remembers the counsel of R. Perry Ficklin, then president of the Portugal Lisbon Mission, who explained that Elder Moreira’s missionary service wasn’t over, that he was only being “transferred to another area—more difficult.” Tino went on to teach and baptize a number of people in the air force.
Quim, too, has been responsible for introducing several co-workers to the gospel since the end of his mission. The lives of the two brothers have, in fact, continued on parallel paths in several ways. Both are married now—to two sisters, also named Moreira! Both Tino and Quim, now in their mid-twenties, have also been deeply involved in Church leadership positions. Their commitment is such that Quire served concurrently as second counselor in his ward’s bishopric, as a stake high councilor, and as stake mission leader; at the same time, Tino was serving as ward elders quorum president, as first counselor in the stake mission presidency, and as director of Church educational programs for their area. (Tino now works for the Church in Lisbon, while Quim still lives in Porto.)
Was it difficult to fill all those positions and handle their other roles in life as well?
Difficulty was not a consideration, Tino says matter-of-factly. “When we chose a mission, we chose to be active in the Church.”
Two of Tino’s friends whom he introduced to the gospel—Jose Gouveia Pereiro and Hernani Cerqueira—also served missions. Tino, Quim, Jose, and Hernani have helped bring more than one hundred people into the Church and continue to be missionaries even now—long after their full-time service is over.
Tino reflects that none of this would have been possible without “that first little seed” planted by the missionaries who knocked on his door.
And now, he says, with a mixture of wonder and enthusiasm, “the tree keeps on growing—so fast!”

The youth of the Tampa Florida Stake had a great idea. They decided that every youth in the stake should have a subscription to the New Era. So they went to stake members asking for contributions to pay for the subscriptions. In return for the contributions, they pledged to finish landscaping the front of the recently completed stake center. The response from stake members was excellent, and the young men and women soon raised enough money to meet their goal. The orders were sent in, and soon every home in the stake in which a youth resided was receiving a copy of the magazine.
One day shortly before a stake conference, the young men and women of the stake showed up at the stake center and went to work landscaping. They put in turf and shrubs and soon had the place looking great. One young nonmember bicycling past thought it looked like so much fun that he stopped and joined in. As a little extra incentive, there were barbecued hot dogs for all the laborers. Because of the industry of the stake youth and the generosity of the stake membership, the stake center looks a lot better, and every youth was exposed to a potentially life-changing influence.
In the meantime, there are some benefits he does know about—increased enthusiasm on the part of the youth of the stake and sincere gratitude from the active youth who had not been able to receive the magazine because of financial or other reasons.
And of course the stake center’s looking better than ever. The results have been exciting. But of course that’s what happens when some great young men and women get a great idea and make it happen.

I have a friend that I met in the seventh grade. His name is George Suvall. He has been a very successful basketball coach and trainer. He is also a homespun philosopher. Periodically I see him out walking near where we live. We stop to chat. George reported his family had come from Greece when he was very young. At first, because they didn’t speak English in the home, George did not know how to read or write English very well. He was able to keep most of it a secret. An insightful teacher, because she cared and noticed that he was always trying to do his best, rescued him. One day his father was attempting to explain the importance of doing the best you can to George and said, “Hey, George, if you gonna be anything, you be the best anything you can be.” His father knew that in America if you do the best you can, you will succeed.
Then his father said, “Georgie, there are two-a-things you cannot-a buy. It’s a your-a-name and your-a-health. Take-a-care of them both.” Those few words provided a personal philosophy George still follows.

First: Do the best you can.
Second: Protect your name.
Third: Guard your health.

In my family’s pioneer history there are many accounts of noble souls who demonstrated the traits of true discipleship. My children’s great-grandfather was a valiant disciple of Jesus Christ. His family were wealthy landowners in Denmark. As the favored son, he was to inherit the land of his father. He fell in love with a beautiful young woman who was not of the same social standing as his family. He was encouraged not to pursue the relationship. He was not inclined to follow his family’s counsel, and on one of his visits to see her he discovered that all of her family had joined the Church. He refused to listen to the doctrine her family had embraced and forcefully told her that she had to choose between him and the Church. She boldly declared that she would not give up her religion.
With that forceful pronouncement, he decided he should listen to the teachings that were so important to her. Soon after, he was touched by the Spirit and he, too, became converted to the gospel. But when he informed his parents of his decision to join the Church and marry this young woman, they were angry with him and forced him to decide between his family and their wealth and the Church. He walked away from the comforts he had known all of his life, joined the Church, and married her.
Immediately, they started to prepare to leave Denmark and journey to Zion. Now without the support of his family, he had to work hard at any employment he could find to save for the journey to the new land. After a year of hard labor, he had saved enough for their passage. As soon as they were prepared to leave, their branch president came to them and said there was a family with greater need than he and his wife. He was asked to give up what he had saved so the needy family could go to Zion.
Discipleship requires sacrifice. They gave up their savings to the needy family, and then they began another year of hard labor to save to finance their journey. Eventually they arrived in Zion, but not before they had made many more sacrifices, showing true discipleship.

“Missionaries from the Western United States knocked on my door in England many years ago. After introducing themselves as representatives of the Lord Jesus Christ, they told us that the Book of Mormon was the word of God and that it had been translated from ancient records by the power of God. They shared with us how this wonderful book came to light. As I looked at it, a warm feeling came over me and I knew that the writings were true. I still had to read more and then pray before I knew that the young boy, Joseph Smith, whom the Lord used to translate the Book of Mormon, was indeed a prophet. My family and I were baptized. A desire to know the truth, coupled with study and prayer, gave me a testimony. Everyone can receive the same blessing through study and prayer. President Benson has challenged every member of the Church to read the Book of Mormon every day because it will bring us nearer to our Heavenly Father and Jesus than any other book.”

My dad is older than all my friends’ dads. He is too old to do anything.
At the pool last summer, Jimmy’s dad did a triple somersault off the high dive. Everyone cheered. I asked my dad if he would do one, too.
He laughed. “Steven, I wouldn’t survive a fall like that. Let’s get in the pool, and I’ll teach you the backstroke.”
So I learned the backstroke, but no one was cheering.
In the fall, I went out for soccer. Megan’s dad was the coach. He ran up and down the field with us for hours, shouting out the plays and showing us how to kick. My dad watched from the bleachers.
“Dad, can’t you be assistant coach or something?” I asked.
“I don’t have the energy to keep going for that length of time, Steven. But I’ve thought of a few new plays I’d like to tell your coach.”
Megan’s dad used the plays, and we won most of our games. At the end-of-the-season banquet, Megan’s dad got a trophy. My dad just watched and applauded.
During the winter, our class went on a ski trip. All the fathers came, and they all skied down the toughest slopes. All except my dad. He would only go on the smallest slope.
“I don’t need any broken bones at my age,” my dad said when I begged him to try a bigger hill. And instead of always skiing, my dad helped some of the beginners learn to stay up on their skis.
Then at the end of the school year, our class had a parents’ day program. Most of the parents took off work to come and talk about their jobs. Since my dad was retired, I figured he wouldn’t have anything to talk about.
I sat next to John. I didn’t see his father on the stage. “Where’s your dad?” I asked.
“He couldn’t come. He’s away on a business trip. He’s gone a lot.” John wasn’t too happy about that.
“My dad’s always around.”
“You’re lucky.”
One by one the parents got up and talked about their jobs. Some of them had really exciting jobs. One was a pilot, and one was a paramedic. One father even taught skydiving. After the skydiver, it was my dad’s turn. What is he going to talk about? I wondered.
“My job is my son Steven,” he began. “I like to help him learn things and to participate in his activities. I hope I’m always there when he needs me. He doesn’t think I do anything exciting, but to me, being with him every day is the most exciting thing I could do.”
I was so surprised, I couldn’t move. Even when everyone else in the room stood up and applauded him, I still couldn’t move.
After the program, I ran to find my dad. I told him that I understood and that I was glad he wasn’t too old to be my dad.

I was in Richfield and saw a good friend that I had met in San Antonio on my mission. His name is John. His eyesight is failing; he is almost blind. His family needed a car. He had bought an old van for, I believe, $200, and thought he could make it work. It didn’t run. He bought parts—as many as he could afford. About three months later it still wasn’t running. He really needed the money back out of the car, so he let it be known that he was selling it.

One of the good men there went to him and said, “John, I understand you’re selling your car.”

John answered, “Yes, I am.”

The man asked, “How much do you want for it?”

John said, “Well, I’d really like to get what I have into it. I have $200 into it.”

The man said, “Two hundred dollars, huh? Would you take $300 for it?”

Tears started glistening in John’s eyes, and he said, “That would be wonderful.”

Then the man said, “Well, then how about $400?”

Then the tears came a little faster.

“Okay. This is my final offer. I’ll give you $500 for it.”

God bless those kind of people! I’m so grateful for that kind of faith in the Church.

I think of my ancestors in Scotland and northern England who left behind everything they had known to follow the call of a prophet of God telling them to gather with the saints in America, ancestors who essentially came with nothing but their meager possessions and a testimony of truth. Many had no idea where they would be going, had no home or job waiting for them and in many cases no family to anticipate other than those they brought with them. I can scarce imagine such faith. One of these, Robert Harris, a member of the United Brethren, knew nothing of the church and when his wife Hannah Maria went with her sister and her husband, Daniel Browett, to listen to a preacher named Wilford Woodruff, he was not interested. But his wife was. Robert became frustrated with her interest and determined to do something about this Mormon preacher. My grandmother's journal records the following: "That evening he organized a mob. The plot was to 'rotten egg' the Mormon Preachers and then ride them out of town on a rail, and perhaps even tar and feather them. That night they went to the meeting. As Brother Woodruff was speaking, Robert gave the signal and said, 'Now is the time, boys. Let's go in and pitch Woodruff and his companions out.' As he walked toward the front, Robert saw his wife on the front seat listening intently to the words of Brother Woodruff. Again this strange feeling engulfed him and he became overpowered. He put up his hands to stop the mob. 'There is something to this religion.' The mob all bowed their heads and went out. Brother Woodruff continued his meetings and Robert attended. At the end of the sixth meeting, he stepped up to Brother Woodruff and said, 'You have made me a convert to your teachings. I desire to be baptized at your hands.' He was baptized in March 1840, just three weeks after his wife." Later, in 1841, Robert was Daniel Browett's counselor on the ship "Echo" that sailed with 109 members of the church for America. It took them 10 weeks to get from England to Nauvoo. He was among those driven out, and subsequently enlisted with the Mormon Battalion, eventually returning overland from California to arrive in the Salt Lake Valley in October of 1847.

Why did he not turn back? There was time to escape. He was not yet in the hands of his enemies. Friends were at his side who would die for him if necessary. Some suggested he flee across the Mississippi where he would be safe. But he continued to Carthage.
Joseph must have recalled some of the dangers through which he had passed—like the winter night when a mob broke into his home and with curses and profanity tore him from the bedside of his wife and sick children and dragged him over the frozen ground, kicking and beating him until he was unconscious. When consciousness returned, they stripped him of his clothing and covered his naked body from head to foot with a coat of tar and feathers, forcing open his mouth to fill it with the same substance, then left him on the frozen ground to die of cold and exposure.
Riding to Carthage he might have recalled the time in Missouri when he and some of his brethren had been betrayed into the hands of their enemies. The leader of the mob convened a court; Joseph and his associates were placed on trial for their lives. They were convicted and all sentenced to be shot the next morning at eight o’clock in the public square in Far West. At the appointed hour they were duly led forth to be murdered, but a dispute among the mob saved them.
Without even being permitted to bid farewell to their families, they were taken from place to place and exhibited to jeering crowds while the Saints were told they would never see their leaders again. But Joseph cheered his fellow prisoners by announcing that none of them would suffer death.
“Be of good cheer, brethren,” he said, “the word of the Lord came to me last night that our lives should be given us, . . . not one of our lives shall be taken” (HC 3:200).
As Joseph contemplated those dreary months of imprisonment in Missouri, he must have recalled the night, when confined in a dungeon, he rebuked the guards. He and his brethren were trying to get a little sleep, but were kept awake by the awful blasphemies and obscene jests of their jailers, who were recounting the dreadful deeds of robbery and murder they had committed among the Mormons. These were no idle boasts, for these awful atrocities had actually been committed. Suddenly, Joseph rose to his feet and, in a voice that seemed to shake the very building, cried out:
Silence, ye fiends of the infernal pit! In the name of Jesus Christ I rebuke you, and command you to be still; I will not live another minute and hear such language. Cease such talk, or you or I die this instant! (HC 3:208)
The effect must have been electric in its suddenness. Some begged his pardon while others slunk into the dark corners of Liberty Jail to hide their shame.
The power of Jesus Christ, whose name he had invoked in his rebuke, was upon him. His hands and feet were in chains, but these the guards did not see. They saw only the righteous anger in his shining face, and felt the divine power in his voice as he rebuked them.
But if Joseph’s voice was terrible as the roaring lion in his rebuke of the wicked, it was soothing as a mother’s voice in comfort to the righteous. In that same name and by the same authority with which he silenced the blasphemies of the guards, he had blessed little children, baptized repentant sinners, conferred the Holy Ghost, healed the sick, and spoken words of comfort and consolation to thousands.

As you are aware, whenever The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints constructs a new temple, there is a dedication ceremony held when the building is finished. The purpose of this ceremony is to set aside the building for the work of God. A Latter-day Saint dedication ceremony includes a special prayer designating the building for Church use and asking God to bless the structure and grounds.
Before the dedicatory services but part of the celebration of a new temple, the church conducts an open house. As you are aware, non-members of the church are invited to tour the Temple which includes a video explaining the purpose of temples and how they are used. [2]
Thousands of people walk through these open houses After the tour the public are invited to make comments regarding their experience. These comments are very telling and touching at times. I have been blessed to hear some of these comments as they comeback to one of the committees on which I serve. An older women who toured the Gilbert Arizona Temple shared the following comment of which I paraphrase:
“Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to tour the Gilbert Temple. The building was wonderful. I felt something I had never felt before. I was touched. When we went through the room where it was identified that marriages were performed I broke down, you see, twenty years earlier my only daughter, who had become a member of your church elected to be married in the Mesa Temple, not allowing me, her mother to be there. Imagine, one of the greatest days in a mothers life, and now I would be denied the opportunity. I was heartbroken, then my sadness turned to anger and spite. Because of this incident, my daughter and I have been estranged for over twenty years. Tonight I plan to go to her house and ask for her forgiveness, you see, if she elected to be married in a holy house like Gilbert then it must have been the Lord’s will. I want to be a part of her life and feel what she feels.” (Elder Kent F. Richards reading a comment from the Gilbert Open House, anonymous women).
One can only imagine the circumstances leading up to the decision for this young women to be sealed in the Temple, under the correct authority and thus leaving out her mother from the experience. She must have had extreme faith. She must have known the truth. She must have loved the Lord. This decision, at her young age, proved to be a defining decision for her life but also a stumbling block to her relationship with her mother here on earth. Imagine what it meant to her Father in Heaven or to the Lord that she would put them first. One would ask? How might she have come to this decision? Did she “ study it out in her mind; then did she ask the father if it be right, did she feel her bosom burn within her and thus knowing that this decision was the right course of action even though it caused years of pain within her own family. It was for her a “defining decision”.

When the war was almost over, the four other trainers and I received orders to go to Berlin. Hitler was there at that time, and it was the last phase of the war. The Russians were advancing, and the British and Americans were already very close to where I was.
We said we would go to Berlin, but I had prayed about it already, and I had the feeling that I should go home. We knew there was no use in going to Berlin because the war was lost. “Günther,” I said to my best friend, “I am not going. I am going home.”
“I’ll join you,” he decided. I asked him about his hasty decision and he said, “I have watched you all the time. I have noticed that you are quite religious, and I have admired you. I trust in your decisions because I think they are made with some guidance from above.”
The other three trainers decided to go with us, and the five of us left, supposedly for Berlin. As soon as we got out of sight, we hurried into the forest and changed into the civilian clothes we had with us.
The Americans had already arrived and were on the main roads next to the forest. We stayed way up on the peak of the mountain because there we were still quite safe. Our trip home would take us two to three weeks. We slept in the forest—five of us under one blanket—and had to rotate positions every hour because the two on the ends would get so cold. The food we took with us lasted three days. The rest of the time we ate berries we picked in the forest, and once in a while German families gave us food.

Colonel Thomas Kane, a special representative of James Polk, president of the United States, visited the Mormon pioneers in 1846 while they camped in Iowa, preparing to cross the Missouri River. He had read newspaper articles about the Saints, describing how they had frequently been persecuted and driven from their homes. As he walked through the woods near the outskirts of the camp, he came upon a lone pioneer who was secretly praying. Thomas stood quietly listening to the man humbly express thanks for the restored gospel and petition for the Saints’ protection during their travels.
Thomas was very moved by this experience, and he became a lifelong friend of the Mormons, although he never joined the Church.

I would like to explain to you exactly what took place following the unexpected death of President Harold B. Lee on December 26, 1973. I was in Phoenix, Arizona, to spend Christmas with my daughter and her family when a call came to me from Arthur Haycock, secretary to President Lee. He said that President Lee was seriously ill, and he thought that I should plan to return home as soon as possible. A half-hour later he called and said: “The Lord has spoken. President Lee has been called home.”

President Romney, who in my absence was directing the affairs of the Church, was at the hospital with President Spencer W. Kimball of the Council of the Twelve. Immediately upon President Lee’s death President Romney turned to President Kimball and said, “You are in charge.” Not one minute passed between the time President Lee died and the Twelve took over to preside over the Church.

Following President Lee’s funeral, President Kimball called a meeting of the Apostles for Sunday, December 30, at 3 p.m. in the Salt Lake Temple council room. President Romney and I had taken our respective places of seniority in the Council, so there were fourteen of us present. Following a song, a prayer by President Romney, President Kimball, in deep humility, expressed his feelings to us. He said that he had spent Friday in the temple talking to the Lord, and had shed many tears as he prayed for guidance in assuming his new responsibilities and in choosing his counselors.

Dressed in our temple robes, we held a prayer circle; President Kimball asked me to conduct it and Elder Thomas S. Monson to offer the prayer. Following this, President Kimball explained the purpose of the meeting and called on each member of the Quorum in order of seniority, starting with Elder Ezra Taft Benson, to express his feelings as to whether the First Presidency should be organized that day or whether we should carry on as the Council of the Twelve. Each said, “We should organize now,” and many complimentary things were spoken about President Kimball and his work with the Twelve.

Then Elder Ezra Taft Benson nominated Spencer W. Kimball to be the President of the Church. This was seconded by Elder Mark E. Petersen and unanimously approved. President Kimball then nominated his counselors: N. Eldon Tanner as first counselor, and Marion G. Romney as second, each of whom expressed willingness to accept the position and devote his whole time and energy in serving in that capacity. They were unanimously approved. Then Elder Mark E. Petersen, second in seniority in the Twelve, nominated Ezra Taft Benson as President of the Quorum of the Twelve. This was unanimously approved.

At this point all the members present laid their hands upon the head of Spencer W. Kimball, and President Ezra Taft Benson was voice in blessing, ordaining, and setting apart Spencer W. Kimball as the twelfth President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Then, with President Kimball as voice, N. Eldon Tanner was set apart as first counselor and Marion G. Romney as second counselor in the First Presidency of the Church. Following the same procedure, he pronounced the blessing and setting apart of Ezra Taft Benson as President of the Quorum of the Twelve.

Benny’s mind raced back to the day of Charlie Roger’s birthday party when they played Pin the Tail on the Donkey. Benny remembered how he had walked in what seemed to be a straight line toward the donkey, but when he pinned the tail on, it was far to the right. Most of the other boys and girls walked far to the right too.
That night Benny had asked his father, “Why do we turn to the right when we think we’re going straight?”
“When we can’t see,” his father told him, “we move to the right or left because our bodies are not perfectly balanced. Most right-handed people tend to turn to the right because the muscles on that side of their bodies are better developed and slightly heavier.
“When we can see, we compensate for this imbalance without thinking. But in a fog, for instance, people often walk in circles when they think they are going straight.”
What’s true of fog must be true of a snowstorm, thought Benny. I’ll have to concentrate on moving to the left and hope we’ll end up at the cabin.
“Come on,” he said to Gordy. “Let’s go on now.”
Benny started out again, moving slightly to his left. After traveling for a while, he felt a tug on the scarf. He realized that Gordy was signaling for him to stop.
“What’s the matter?” Benny called above the noise of the wind.
“You keep going too far to the left!” Gordy exclaimed. “We should have gone straight. Now we’re lost and we’ll never find the cabin.”
“We’ll find it, Gordy,” Benny promised him. “Just trust me, and we’ll be there soon.”
When they started out again, Benny felt Gordy following reluctantly. The snow continued to swirl around them in thick clouds, and all Benny could see was a heavy mist of white. Even when he turned back to encourage Gordy, he could barely see his friend through the whirling snowflakes.
Before long Benny felt a tug on the scarf and turned to hear Gordy call, “We’re lost. What will we do?”
“No, we’re not lost,” Benny answered. “We’re almost there.”
Benny’s voice was strong against the wind and sounded full of confidence, but inside he was beginning to wonder if he hadn’t made a mistake. Yet he knew they had to keep moving.
Benny quickly moved one snowshoe ahead of the other, giving a little tug on the scarf. Gordy followed silently.
Suddenly Benny stopped. “There’s the cabin!” he shouted. “I see a little light over to the right.”
He felt the tension on the scarf relax as Gordy called, “Oh, Benny, I see it too!”
The boys hurried in the direction of the light, stumbling a little from fatigue and cold.
“We were right on top of it!” Benny said as the boys circled around to the front porch.
Benny could hear his father’s voice calling through the storm.
“We’re here on the porch, Dad!” Benny answered.
Swinging a lantern, Benny’s father came around from the back of the cabin.
“I’m certainly glad to see both of you,” he said, holding up the light to see the boys. “I’ve been calling and calling for you ever since the storm started. I didn’t dare move out of sight of the cabin, for I knew it wouldn’t help if I got lost too.”
“Well, I thought we were lost,” said Gordy, “but Benny knew just where to go.”
“You can tell me all about it when you’ve changed your clothes and had some hot chocolate,” Benny’s father said. “The important thing is that you’re here.”
As the boys hurried into the warm cabin, they looked at each other and smiled. “You’re right, Dad,” Benny said. “The important thing is that we’re here.”

Gose and Arouma decided to serve a senior mission for the Church of Jesus Christ after President Russell M. Nelson visited Australia and spoke about missionary service. They were called to serve in 2020 as welfare and self-reliance missionaries in the Australia Sydney Mission.
Although COVID affected the world during that time, they were able to continue their mission in Sydney. They learned to teach via video calls and taught English Connect as a pilot program.

Their journey to the gospel began during a work trip to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, where they were introduced to and joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. At the time, there was no Church branch in their hometown of Debra Zeit, and attending church required a 47-kilometer weekly journey to Addis Ababa. Despite the difficulty, the family made the effort to travel every week. Eventually, they were able to worship closer to home, gathering with other members in the house of President Ayele Asfaw Kelkaye, a fellow Latter-day Saint. The early years of their conversion were marked by this dedication to the gospel, but the path was not always easy.
For eight years, the Waji family rarely attended church, facing spiritual and personal challenges. It was during this time that Elder and Sister Moyer, senior missionaries, visited their home. That visit marked a turning point in their lives. Ada Worq, one of Waji and Emebet’s daughters, recalls the significance of that moment: “I will never forget what they said when they visited us. They asked, ‘What can we do for you?’ and then spoke to us about Christ’s love and faith. Everyone was crying, touched by the Spirit.”
This visit ignited a renewal of faith within the family. They recommitted to the gospel and returned to full activity in the Church. However, their path to the temple remained challenging. For Waji and Zenbech, being sealed in the temple for time and all eternity became a cherished goal, but their journey was met with multiple setbacks. Their planned trips to the temple failed three times. Despite their best efforts, unforeseen obstacles prevented them from making the journey. But through faith and divine intervention, their trip was finally made possible. With the support of the mission leaders, President Oliva Cowley and Sister Rebecca Cowley, they made their way to the Accra Ghana Temple.
On June 17, 2024, after 25 years of membership and waiting, Waji and Zenbech entered the temple and were sealed together. The day marked was filled with deep spiritual meaning. Mekonnen, their eldest son, reflected on the experience: “I saw how much the people have been blessed because of having the temple in their country.”
Waji, moved by the power of the temple, said, “The temple is like a compass—it directs us to the way of eternal life. It is my prayer that there will be a temple in Ethiopia one day.”
Sister Zenbech shared her profound feelings from their temple experience, saying, “I felt the love of Heavenly Father and the love of the people while I was in the temple.”
For both Waji and Zenbech, being sealed in the temple was not only the culmination of years of faith and sacrifice but also the fulfilment of a promise they had longed for.
Following their sealing, the family continued to grow spiritually. Their renewed dedication led them to serve in various callings in the Church, building their testimonies and further strengthening their faith. Their daughter Bemnet, inspired by her family’s experience and her own faith, began preparing to serve a mission, contributing to the ongoing legacy of commitment and service within the Waji family.
The Waji family’s journey serves as a powerful reminder that faith, patience, and perseverance in the gospel yield great blessings. Though Waji and Zenbech faced numerous obstacles, their dream of being sealed in the temple became a reality, demonstrating the power of the Lord’s timing. Their story offers hope to all those striving for the blessings of the temple, showing that through faith, anything is possible.

Not long ago I attended a dance at a stake that was not my own. The friend who invited me began introducing me to a group of girls standing near the door as we entered. Since I didn’t know anyone, I was anxious to make some points with the ladies, so I said, “Wow. There sure are a lot of beautiful girls in your stake.” My friend looked around the group and, trying to be funny, said loudly, “Where? Where? I don’t see any.” Needless to say, we were not the most popular guys at the dance that night.
If the above experience had been a scene on a TV show, my friend’s “clever” comment would have been followed by laughter. In real life, the girls were offended and avoided us the rest of the evening. What many don’t realize is that those producing TV shows use a laugh track—prerecorded laughter that can be turned on and off at the touch of a button. That’s why laughter always follows sarcastic put-downs or mean jokes. It sounds like everyone enjoys the negative humor. In real life, there is no laugh track. People might put up with put-downs and manage a chuckle for the sake of saving face, but deep down, negative humor hurts. No matter how perfect the timing or how smoothly executed the joke, usually the only ones laughing are those who are afraid they may be your next targets.